Showing posts with label science. Show all posts
Showing posts with label science. Show all posts

The Antikythera Machine



New Scientist
(the liveliest of the journals) and The Guardian posted this video of the rebuilt "Antikythera Mechanism", a machine found in a Greek shipwreck some 2,000 years old.
There's an argument on Wired as to whether it's a computer or a clock. Since it predicts points in time-- like calculating upcoming dates for the Olympics-- I say it's a computer. (The x-ray shows the inner workings of the original device.) I've been interested in ancient technology all my life-- Hero's steam engine, the citric juice battery used by the Egyptians for electroplating-- and seeing this mystery restored and deciphered is a wondrous thing.

Who Killed Mars?


It's almost certain that Mars had an ocean-- but what happened? The last few hard science novels I've read suppose that Mars' lack of tectonic turnover -- all those extinct volcanoes-- contributed to any atmosphere bleeding off and liquid water evaporating or being frozen underground.
Now an article in Nature gives the case that Mars was slammed by an extinction-level asteroid that hit so hard, the planet's crust is lopsided-- as much as thirty klicks lower on one side. More than enough, if the computer modelling is right, to smear
any life off the surface and drive the Martian seas underground or into space. This gives one pause about the fragility of life on our own planet; maybe Americans ought to stop using words like "geek", "nerd" and "wonk" as insults and start begging the disdained technocrats to try and save save their sorry ass.
If the Martian ice caps aren't enough to sustain a green Mars, another asteroid story from Earth suggests an impact could have driven life underground. New Scientist reports that the 2 km wide asteroid that hit Chesapeake Bay drove cellular life more than a mile underground. I'm still holding out for Mole People.

Roll Over, Clovis, or: Kilroy Was Here, Used the Facilities, Nobody Go In There for a While


For a long time (by my standards, not the Earth's) the Folsom point was the oldest evidence of human arrival in America, so rare they're expertly forged by flintknappers and sold as genuine. Then the Clovis culture with their fluted points (sounds un-American, downright effete) pushed the calendar back even farther. Oh, there are 15,000 year-old settlements in Chile, 14,000 year-old butcher's marks on mammoth bones in Wisconsin, 18,000 year old artifacts in Pennsylvania-- but there's always the danger that artifacts can be "seeded" on an archeological site (see Tony Hillerman's mystery novel, Dance Hall of the Dead.)

Now archeologists have irrefutable proof that human beings strode the American continent at least 1,000 years before Clovis: a fossilzed turd.

The coprolites from Paisley Caves in Oregon date at 12,500 BCE. The traces of DNA concealed therein are related to Native Americans and come originally from East Asia. It might be my years of working in a hospital, or hanging out too much with a gastro-enterologist, but I find it funny that our arrival on any landscape-- cue the Hollywood backlighting and inspirational music-- would be marked not by a pyramid or a handprint but by our most humbling shared experience. Now that's a closing shot that might have saved Zardoz.

CASSIOPEIA, DIRTY MUDFLAP GIRL IN THE SKY

I may have uncovered the archetype beneath badly drawn female anatomy, and no, I don't mean the Venus of Willendorf.

News from Perseus, which seems to be a busy part of the sky this time of year. The scientists who located the first of almost 250 planets known to be outside our solar system have announced a new planet that almost matches ours in its distance from its sun, with a year of 360 days. Bad news is, the star it circles is a Red Giant that's eaten up the equivalent orbits of Mercury and Venus and long since baked away any water or life that might have been there.

My friends and relatives who live away from city lights are used to me pestering them this time of year, because August 12 is when I start lurking in their back yards to watch for the Perseids, a thick meteor shower that seems to come out of that part of the sky. The light circled in red above, NGC1275 or Perseus A, is the source of a strong radio signal of unknown origin. At these distances there's no connection, but fun for a writer to play with-- shades of Arthur C. Clarke's "The Star".

The winking eye of the gorgon's head in Perseus' hand, Algol, was called Ras Al Ghul by the medieval Arabs, "head of the demon" (and gave its name to a Batman villain). It's the only binary star we can see with the naked eye, that darkens every couple of days when the smaller of the two stars passes behind its companion.

I can only reliably find about five constellations without a map and both hands. I usually find Perseus by first looking for the W or upside down M in the sky. The professionals call it Cassiopeia, the queen on her throne, but my wife and her sister have renamed her "Dirty Mud Flap Girl", as you can see from the incredibly expensive graphic I've provided here.



My friend Wayne Allen Sallee plans on renaming the cities of America when he's the last survivor of the next great plague. The novelist Jim Harrison wants to rename any birds of America that labor under inadequate or unpoetic names-- "The Beige Dolorosa", one of three novellas in Julip, describes the plan. Bridget and Colleen discovered the Dirty Mud Flap as girls, during long nights on Grandma Olga's dock, and in the weird archetypal nature of these metaphors, it's an appropriate nickname.

Cassiopeia was the beautiful queen of Ethiopia, so vain that she boasted she was as beautiful as the fifty daughters of the Old Man of the Sea. Hence the connection with our chrome avatar of badly drawn female pulchritude; did Michael Turner design that thing while he was still in high school?

Cassiopeia was punished by a sea monster that ravaged the coast of Ethiopia, appeased only by sacrificing maidens. What is it with these monsters and their treasure and their maidens? They don't know what to do with either, like an obtuse millionaire with a trophy wife. They ran through all the virgins 'til there weren't any left, except for the queen's daughter Andromeda, the girl chained to the two starry pillars to the lower right of Perseus. Perseus rescued Andromeda, and thereby hangs a tale and a plot point in Clash of the Titans, by which I mean the Harryhausen film and not the legend of Power Girl's breasts.

Never Mind the Bollocks, Here Come the Sexless Pistils

I could live a hundred years and never have a chance to write a title like that. Flora, a Komodo dragon at the Chester Zoo in England who produced viable eggs without a mate, is now a virgin mother. Five of Flora's eggs have hatched into little Komodo dragons. This new trick with parthenogenesis might also explain how Godzilla, Mothra, and the rest have managed to keep things going on Monster Island for so long. Or for that matter, Wonder Woman and the Amazons on Themyscria.


I knew about fish and amphibians, and apparently there are other higher-order species that can perform the same trick given the right conditions. These idle thoughts will not descend into dark thoughts about the superfluity of the male; I'm already a genetic dead end and have long been aware of how close the genders are in the human animal. One little blib in an X or Y chromosome and your income gets cut by 76%.

But how often do we get a chance to contemplate the Komodo's talent for survival: from biting Sharon Stone's ex-husband, to having saliva so infested with bacteria (due to their taste for carrion) that it might well be considered a venom? (I felt sorry for the guy, and would have gladly bought him a drink: we are of an age, and what reporter raised on Johnny Quest would pass up his chance to pose with a Komodo?)

An otherwise excellent film The Freshman was almost spoiled by its use of a skinny-headed monitor lizard in place of the much more dangerous Komodo. This like going to Hooters instead of a strip club. You guys couldn't afford an animatronic puppet for the close-ups? A stunt Komodo? I tell myself that they started with a real Komodo, but the Bruno Kirby character pawned it somewhere and figured no one would notice the substitution.

Quite a few scientists believe that the Komodos have had to live through long periods without fresh food on an island covered with ash because of volcanic eruptions on neighboring islands. Being able to eat whatever washes up on shore would be a useful skill to have. Which leads to one of the sidebar questions I've been meaning to pass on to Kim, our family microbiologist: with so much concern about drug-resistant strains of bacteria, and overuse of antibiotics, why isn't there a national effort to discover and harness more friendly little phages as an alternative to antibiotics? And is anyone trying to figure out why buzzards and Komodos don't get sick from the stuff they eat? Those bastards must have bacteriophages in their gut that would make Galactus and Takeru "The Tsunami" Kobayashi stand in awe.

It is a religious conviction with me that the Book of Nature has many cures for our common ills if we would learn enough humility to seek our answers there. Bats and dolphins understood sonar before we did, Wasps and bees can detect explosives, Gambian rats will look for land mines for the price of a peanut butter and cheese cracker, a spider web is still mightier than our strongest cable-- why not a cure for disease in the Nightmare Alley gut of a vulture or a dragon? This is why it is such a sin that the Amazon rain forest and our own Michigan forests were clear-cut without a thought for what might be there. The cure for cancer may have already been destroyed as carelessly as a Roman soldier cut down Archimedes.

JAMES MADISON SAY SIGNIFYING MONKEY IS GONNA GET YOUR MOMMA

The science that inspired my Twilight Tales story "Signifying Monkey" [warning: graphic violence and sexual language*] is in the news again with a story about robots controlled by human thoughts and another hopeful story about applications for amputees. And again, I call for a memorial to be built to the experimental subjects, animal and human (remember the yellow fever volunteers, and Dr. Erlich's assistant?) that have given up their agony in the service of humanity. Kalamazoo is a pharmecutical town and I'd like to see a gentle tribute here in Bronson Park, along with our memory of the GAR, Lincoln's visit and the Boxer Rebellion.


I wish humans were benevolent enough to Use This Power Only For Good, but then I know that the military began this line of thought in order to create robotic soldiers. We 're not the only ones; Israel is working on a nanotech "hornet" like the hunter-seeker in DUNE, and Lord knows what the Chinese will get up to.

Reginald Hudlin, in his fine revival of the Black Panther, posits a US fighting force that uses dead soldiers as cybernetically controlled fighting zombies, and I suppose that would be next. Horribly, the thing that makes this a "comic book" idea isn't the outre science: in the real world, most militaries still find it cheaper to use up live meat than to spend all that money on hardware to reanimate the dead.

"If men were angels," James Madison says, "no government would be necessary." My students hear that phrase constantly as an explanation for the Constitution and my sad-but-true refutation of the anarchist dream. Now it seems we need to leash engineers and physicians who use their dark art to hurt rather than heal.



* Five bucks says that warning inspires someone to read the story for the sole purpose of being offended.

DEVOLUTION OF THE REPUBLICAN

Republican party regulars, like German industrialists in the 1930s, thought they would use the Christian right as a way to power—only to find that the fundamentalists have used them. The most powerful nation of earth is now in the hands of zealots, whose devotion to the Biblical faith of our fathers means a belief in Biblical science as well—until such time as a crippling disease awakens their faith in stem cell research.

Lawmakers in Kansas, Ohio, Texas, where next--?– are spending your time and money debating evolution and intelligent design. Madness is contagious, and wemust not be drawn into this conversation with the barking mad. There never was a conflict between religion and science, only between the science of 2,000 BC and the science of today.
It is no wonder that modern Republicans take this debate so seriously-- they’ve been devolving for years.This can be shown in the fossil record from Lincoln to Theodore Roosevelt to Reagan and Bush.

As shown in the diagram the Republican in its natural state would repulse any electorate. Shown here with their kindly house mother, Mrs. Rove, candidates must be cleaned, shaved, taught to use simple tools, walk upright, and perform the speeches of others.

The chest thumping phase has discovered Fox “news”. He believes that John Kerry was a traitor for asking that we stop wasting our own soldiers, that Joe McCarthy was a great American, and the ravings of Ann Coulter have some connection to reality. This is akin to the fellow who saw a book once and thinks he read the whole library.

A little less filthy after a bath, the creature is able to read the essays of Pat Buchanan and Cal Thomas and recite simple phrases. Theirs is a politics of resentment, born in the schools where Catholicism embraced fascism as a bulwark against godless communism. People who spout morality are ipso facto moral. War criminals were misunderstood. Richard Nixon was a saint, I tell you, a saint. Mr. Nixon never had the lie about a blow job, I can tell you that. Strangely enough, their interests coincide with populist Democrats on the subject of American jobs being shipped overseas, but even broken clocks are right twice a day.

Freudians speak of a period when Republicans are strangely obsessed with other men’s penises and what they might be doing with them. The Republican animal now lives by Mark Twain's dictum that nothing needs reforming so much as other people's bad habits. Unmarried women who have sex will be punished as well. Fornicators cannot be trusted with their own bodies, and must be stopped from murdering an unwanted child. Their carelessness with a moment’s pleasure will chain them to fatherless children for a lifetime, because after the child is safely born we need have no more bother with it. A variant species, the Santorum of Pennsylvania, has expressed concern that an expanded marriage contract will lead to sex with dogs. This might never have occured to us until he brought it up.


In the penultimate stage, the specimen has evolved past the concerns of the flesh. He has read The Road to Serfdom and now has a rationalization for despising the poor. For him the Welfare State is the root of evil. He does not see the irony of his own serfdom as apologist for a Welfare State where millionaires find more charity than paupers. His concern for other people's genitalia has now refined itself into something called the Culture War. The appalling state of the popular arts is blamed on the fornicators, but nothing could be further from the truth. It is the result of the same free market forces that the creature worhips as the Invisible Hand of God. Our hypocrisy knows no bounds.

In the final stage of readiness, the Republican animal is polished enough to stand as a candidate. He has learned to shake hands, smile at inanities and not crap on the floor, with exceptions like DeLay of Texas. In Texas, crapping on the floor is something to be proud of, something that shows you know in your heart what's right and don't have to listen to anybody.

In summary, we can see why the party of Lincoln and Roosevelt now views view Darwin’s theory of evolution as an affront to
their precarious hold on humanity. We can also see why handlers such as Rove feel compelled to clean them up first. Red faces, a bright blue ass, and a strained expression on its face-- it would be easy to confuse the Republican with the baboon, were it not for the advanced social conscience of the baboon.